


Haunted by the Ghost of you

by gublerlover



Series: Marvel Oneshots [5]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 21:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gublerlover/pseuds/gublerlover
Summary: “So, uh, you and Ned?”Great. Real causal, Stark.“No! I mean, I wish, but uh, he doesn’t know, yet, and I don’t know, I just...” Peter rambled, looking everywhere but Tony.“Woah, woah. It’s okay, kid. But if my gay-dar is anywhere near accurate, with the way you guys look at each other...it’s anything but straight.”Peter blushed.“So, you and Stephen, huh?”“Don’t you dare start, Parker.”





	Haunted by the Ghost of you

**Author's Note:**

> hi I worked really hard on this for like 2 days but i didn’t proof it or anything so sorry if it sucks I tried my best! im thinking of adding more chapters in the future but this is what we got so far so thank u sm for reading and if u liked it leave a comment or kudos! I always appreciate them

Tony remembered watching Strange blow away, turning to dust. He remembered the fallen look on everyone’s faces, and could feel the remorse begin drowning his eyes. He placed a protective hand on Peter’s shoulder.

He blinked.

There goes the ant lady, then all her friends.

He watched as the people trying to save the world melted away. As the relationships he just built began to slip.

He watched as Peter, young, smart, talented, kind, wonderful, Peter sent him those puppy-dog-eyes with a silent plea for help. He expected him to fix it. To fix what Thanos has broken, and to save him. His heart broke silently as the kid, wobbled over, broken voice repeating a shattering mantra to save him. To not let him die. To fulfill his promise to May that he would protect her kid.

To fulfill his promise to protect his kid.

His eyes glazed over, offering wordless comfort as he gave his kid a hug, one last time. He couldn’t fix this.

He felt the dust that Peter turned into. He felt the remains of a happy, joking, kid. His kid. Words couldn’t explain the taxing heartache pressed tightly against his chest, soundlessly sobbing into the rubble spread around him.

Tony stood up, walking to find Strange’s ashes.

“You better have a damn good explanation for the shit you pulled, Stephen.” The man breathed out, going to touch the ashes, before drawing his hand back. “I don’t let people hurt my friends, and damn well don’t let people turn my kid to a pile of ash.”

Tears glazed down the elder’s skin again, pattering against the armor once in awhile. His abdomen ached, and the man withdrew his callused fingers from the doctor’s ashes. He didn’t want to touch the ash form of his ass, or something like that.

He coughed and stood up.

This wasn’t the first time Tony’d been abandoned, his friends leaving him, alone and injured.

This probably won’t be the last time.

 

—

“Tony, darling, would you pass the salt?” Stephen spoke, voice coated in sleep grogginess. Tony looked up and rolled his eyes, sliding the salt across the counter. “Of course, honey-bunch. Anything for you.”

Steve and Bucky made eye contact with each other, and started laughing hysterically. “What’s so funny, Spangles?” Tony shot out, a death glare heading towards the blond.

“Oh, nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Steve smiled, still looking at Bucky. Peter jumped in the conversation with a smile.

“Haha! It’s funny because you both always look like you’re eye-making-out!” He laughed, everyone looking at him for a second, before laughing harder.

Well, everyone but Tony.

“I’m not going to say anything about you child-proofing the term eye-fucking, but I assure you, Stephen and I are completely platonic. Okay, Spiderling?” Tony’s glare made Peter shake his head quickly.

“O-Of course, Mr. Stark.”

“C’mon, Winghead. Give the kid a break. He’s only saying what everyone notices.” Steve jumped in. Stephen watched in the back silently, snickering while eating his omelet.

“What? I do not! Friday, do I eye-fuck Mr. Strange?”

“It has come to my attention that you do glare more intensely and more commonly at Stephen than the other guests in the household. Shall I be any further assistance with this matter, sir? I noticed you also glare dow—“ The AI spoke surely, suddenly being cut short.

“Can it, Friday. One more word and you’re replaced.”   
  
Peter quietly interjected, again. “See?” He dug an elbow into Clint’s side. The archer groaned loudly, grabbing a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and shoving it at the kid. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Strange raised an eyebrow, drawing a still-arguing Tony back to the matter at hand. He brunette looked down, putting a hand on his forehead. “Did you seriously put money on this?” He frowned.

“No?” Peter responded.

“Yes.” Natasha said, looking up from the newspaper hiding her face.

Tony sighed, standing up and letting out a dramatic groan. “My own protégé, conspiring against me. I knew it would happen, but not so soon.”

”M—Mr. Stark! Don’t worry! I’ll never go against you!” He leaped from his seat, going for a hug, which Tony side stepped from. The kid crashed into Rhodey, who just happened to step in right in time. Rhodes placed a steadying hand on the teen’s shoulder to hold him in place.

“No, no. Pick the money over me, Mr. Parker. I see how it is.”

“Anyone care to elaborate?” Rhodey carefully asked, curious eyebrow raised.

“Tony didn’t know everyone knew that he made heart eyes at Strange, and Peter won a bet to Barton concerning the matter.” Natasha played in, once more, while everyone snickered.

Rhodey then looked between Tony and Stephen. “Ah. I see.”

“Everyone in this household hates me.” Tony declared, flipping them all off as he went to the elevator.

—

It was a Stark Industries party. Tony always hated these, especially since he stopped drinking. He couldn’t even have a light drink to help him cool down.

Strange was his ‘date’ to the holiday party Pepper had made him go to. She decided it would be easier if he had someone to suffer through the torture of meeting rich assholes and pretending to be civil. At least he has his own rich asshole who could help lessen the brunt of the pain.

Now, he was sitting on the balcony, alone, watching the sky with a glass filled with sparkling water. Tony was far too tired to deal with anyone right now.

“Tony?”

Well, he guesses one person wouldn’t be too bad.

“Hey.” Tony sipped in his drink.

“You good? You seem stressed.” The wizard said, taking a seat next to the genius. Stephen placed his drink on the glass table in front of them.

“I’m good, just tired of everyone’s bull in there. You?” Tony looked at the man for the first time since he’s been out here, and Stephen really...looked back.

He never realized how blue his eyes were until tonight.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I can see how you would get tired of these parties. I’m doing alright, I just wanted to check up on you.” Strange placed a hand on his knee, and Tony smiled subconsciously.

“I’m sorry Pepper dragged you into this.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s an open bar, and I’m here for you. God knows I have better things to do.” Strange muttered in response, and Tony noticed that he must be a little tipsy.

Tony gave a weak excuse of a laugh, more of a huff with a faint smile tainting his lips, and Strange smiled back. “An open bar seemed far more fun when I still drank.” He mused, playing with the stirrer in his sparkling water.

“Ah, almost forgot.” The doctor said. After that, the pair sat in silence for awhile, listening to the bustling New York traffic and watching the skyline. The night always seemed brighter here than anywhere else. Tony leaned closer after awhile.

“Tony?” He tried after the pregnant silence.

“I don’t know what to do, Stephen. It feels...whatever I do is never enough. People still die.” Tony’s voice wobbled more than he was comfortable at that last part.

Strange turned his gaze from the shimmering New York lights, to Tony’s watering eyes. They refracted the light as he continued. “We tried our best...and half the world was still wiped out. I just, can’t stop thinking of a threat bigger than Thanos...how we couldn’t stop it. It’s always on my mind, Stephen. I don’t know what to do.” Tony’s voice crackled.

“Tony...” Strange crept his hand up until it was intertwined with the billionaire’s. “You mustn’t worry about the lives you won’t save in the future, but the lives you’ve saved in the past. Think of how many people wouldn’t be breathing right now without you.”

“Think of the ones that would be breathing without me, Stephen. You know my past. You know the monsters I created with my bare hands, and how many lives were cost because of them.”

“You are not the monsters you made, Stark. You have amounted to more than your father, and repaid your debts to the world by far. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Tony frowned. Strange squeezed his hand for good measure. Tony released his right grip.

“I should head back to the party. Thank you, Stephen.” Tony picked himself off the sofa and brushed his suit off. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

Strange was left looking at the shimmering buildings again, alone. It shocked him how much they all reminded him of the sparking in Tony’s eyes.

-

“H-Hey, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked in the lab one day, the music already lowering. “C-Can I tell you something?”

Tony didn’t bother to look up from his Mark design. “Yeah, kid. Of course.” He shot back.

When silence met him in response, he looked away from the prints and made eye contact with the swearing and nervous looking kid. “Jeez, kid. You hurt or something?” Tony raised an eyebrow in question.

“N-No! I-uh, just am a little nervous...” Peter spluttered.

“You can tell me anything, kid. Don’t sweat it. What’s up?” Tony began to get concerned. Anything that shut the kid up was worryingly enough.

“I—I’mbiandI’msorryIdidn’ttellyou—“

“Woah, woah. Slow down. You think I’m gonna be upset because you swing both ways?” Tony held the urge back to laugh. He knew this was important for Peter to tell him, but he could see the way he looks at Ned. Any bisexual 40-something-year-old-man could see that. “You are aware I’m bisexual, right, Peter?” He added, for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Stark! That’s great and I know you’re not homophobic or anything, cuz, y’know, but, ah, uh, sorry I’m just–you know how it is.” Peter’s face was bright red, but soon he was being enveloped in a hug.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you, kid. You being bi could never change my perception of you. It even makes me prouder, I know how hard it is to grow up in the closet.” Tony smiled into Peter’s curls.

“T-Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

After they pulled away, Tony knew he had to do the whole-embarrassing-bringing-up-crushes thing. “So, uh, you and Ned?”

Great. Real causal, Stark.

“No! I mean, I wish, but uh, he doesn’t know, yet, and I don’t know, I just...” Peter rambled, looking everywhere but Tony.

“Woah, woah. It’s okay, kid. But if my gay-dar is anywhere near accurate, with the way you guys look at each other...its anything but straight. Just an old man’s tip.”

Peter blushed.

“So, you and Stephen, huh?”

“Don’t you dare start, Parker.”

  
-

Tony was bleeding out. Probably. The blood loss was getting to his head, and honestly, he doesn’t know where it even hurts anymore. Hell, he doesn’t know where he even is.

He’s been laying underneath a collapsed building for god knows how long, blood dripping down his abdomen from some large object protruding into his armor and causing the metal to dig in to his skin. Friday won’t respond to any of his calls and his suit is 99.9% past the point of repair, so here is his dilemma.

He never told Peter he loved him. He never really fixed severed ties with Steve. He never saw a movie with Bucky like he promised. He never did a face mask with Natasha while painting her nails. He never told Peter the vast amount of fortune he would inherit. He never really told Pepper and Happy thank you and that he loves them.

He never told Stephen how he really felt.

He was going to die, coated in blood, suffocating in the suit he made, under a dark building with the vague smell of mold and dust. While thinking of his high school man crush.

Dust.

The dust that coated the world.

He never...

There were so many things he had to do.

All the times he wished of dying, he was in such a low he couldn’t feel the happiness that drenched his life. He never wanted to go like this. He wanted to die old, surrounded by his teammates and friends.

He wanted to die old.

He wanted to save more lives.

The darkness suddenly became less dark. The man has a small fight in his brain of whether this is death or if someone was finding him. He hoped it was the latter.

And then he heard it.

“Tony? Tony!”

He’d never been so happy to hear Steve’s voice.

“He’s down here. I can feel it.” Or Stephen’s voice.

(Ironic how both men he had fallen in love with were named Steve. People always said he and Steve didn’t mix well in a relationship, they were too different. He bet him and Strange were far better of a match, with sarcastic comments and reckless tendencies.)

He zoned out, hearing the rubble shift, once in awhile making the pain less tolerable or more. Soon, he was brought to the surface and the utter darkness was replaced with light. He felt Steve remove his helmet. (Bad memories, but at least this time it was gentle.)

“Tony, can you hear us?” Stephen asked,

In the corner of his eye, he could see a mask-less Peter, tears in his eyes and pulling against Natasha’s arms he was entwined in. “Please, please, please, let me see him, let me—I will never forgive you, Natasha, if you don’t let me go, right now—“ Peter was crying, rough and heartbreaking.

“P’ter,” Tony coughed, ignoring the question. “Let ‘em through—“ he managed to get out, Natasha’s arms unwillingly letting the archicad-hero go.

“M-Mr. Stark—Tony, a-are you okay?” Peter rushed out, falling to his knees, next to the hero. Tony had barely noticed the suit had been removed by someone, and Peter was now clutching his bare hand.

“‘M fine, ‘s ‘kay, Pete. Deep bre’th.” Tony mumbled, the taste of blood in the back of his throat. Peter let out a shakey exhale, before resting his head against his mentor’s chest, sobbing roughly.

“‘Ove you, P’te.” Tony managed to say, voice raggedy and broken.

“I—I love you, t-too, M-Mr. Stark.”

Tony could hear when the medics arrived by the sirens. He could hear Peter cry louder and thrash as someone escorted him away. (He assumed Steve had to step in by the way Peter refused to step away from Tony’s bloody body. Even Natasha couldn’t pull him away without the help of someone stronger.)

He started to feel pulsing by the wound, and Stephen’s soft voice fill the empty air. “I’m working on healing the wound, right now, Stark. Just take a few deep breaths.” Tony coughed up blood. Medics rushed towards them.

“Ste’hn,” Tony groaned. “I—“

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I use to be a doctor, ‘member? I won’t let you go out this easy.”

“Steph’n—‘n love w’th you.” Tony breathed, and everything fell back into the darkness he became accustomed to.

-

He woke up with a bump, feeling his body rumble against the rough New York roads. When he opened his eyes the white lights pounded down on them. When he looked to the ride, Stephen’s hand was gripped tightly in his. “Hold on, Stark. We gotta talk.” Strange muttered, eyes wet. It was so...strange to see him emotional and open. It wasn’t something that happened often. The billionaire wished it would happen more with him.

Tony closed his eyes again.

-

Steady beeping and the smell of bleach dragged Tony back to consciousness. He could practically taste the fact that he was in a hospital room—he prayed it wasn’t Shield—and coughed a little as he opened his eyes.

“Tony?” He could recognize that puppy dog voice anywhere.

“Hey, Pete.” His voice cracked a little, but Peter didn’t hesitate to get up from the crappy chairs they supplied to hugging his mentor. “I’m sorry for flipping out on you, I just, I don’t know. I was so worried and—“

Tony cut the kid short. “Woah, woah, when did you flip out on me?“ Tony asked, hesitant. Peter pulled away and looked at him oddly.

“You...don’t remember?” Peter uttered.

“I just remember being under the rubble. Don’t worry about it, must’ve been rough for everyone, and you’re still a kid. You don’t deserve to see all this.” Tony finished and Peter sniffled.

“Thanks, M-Mr. Stark. Doctor Wizard wanted to talk to you, so, uh, I’m gonna go get him. Yeah.” Peter rushed out, and soon, the doctor came to his room (dressed in surprisingly normal clothes.)

“How are you feeling, Stark?” He asked, hands shaking (from nerve damage or actual nerves, Tony couldn’t tell.)

“I, uh, still don’t really know what happened. But okay, considering.” The billionaire waved a quick hand down by the stitches and Strange gave the ghost of a smile.

“I would assume. Peter said that you don’t remember anything after the rubble?” The doctor acquired.

“Yeah, uh, did anything happen? Pete mentioned something about him freaking out but that’s all I know.”

Strange sat on the edge of the hospital bed and sighed, finishing with a “No, Nothing else happened.” It was a blatant lie, and one he would most definitely regret in the future. What Tony said must have been from a mixture of blood loss, disillusions, or sleep deprivation. He couldn’t love him. He smiled lightly. “Get some rest, Stark. I’ll be here when you wake.” Strange stood from the bed and took the seat Peter had left. Tony nodded, too sore to even begin to protest.

Tony closed his eyes to Stephen’s steady breaths.

-

There was blood on his hands, on the desk, and fuck, he needed Bruce, but he was out of the fucking country. So there was one choice he had left. Well, one choice he wanted.

“Friday, c-contact Stephen Strange, inform him of the circumstances. I’ll meet him in the medbay.” The genius muttered, heading there, already.

-

“I swear to God, Stark, I have never met such a reckless, close-minded, ignorant, genius as you.” Strange scoffed, trying to repair the ripped stitches. “How the hell did you manage to do this after only being out of the hospital for two days?”

“I, uh, have a knack for trouble.” He murmured, eyes facing the ceiling.

“When was the last time you slept? Ate? Took care of yourself?” The doctor nagged, eyes rolling every other minute. “I don’t want a corpse on my hands, Tony.” He added, slightly softer than the berating.

“Steve brings me down every meal. I locked them out ‘cause I wanted to work in peace. I’m already behind on prototypes I needed to submit, you know how it is.” Stark waved a hand around the lab.

“Yes, I also know you will never submit those prototypes if you dead from bleeding out.” Tony flinched.

“I-I’m sorry, Tony. I’m just worried.” The doctor cleaned the area one more time, before wrapping it in bandages for good measure. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.” Tony smiled. “Thanks, doc.”

Strange smiled menacingly. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m coming here everyday from now on, to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Right now, you’re going to lay down. Not on that crappy excuse of a couch, but in your suite, because that’s what your body needs to heal. Come on.” Strange placed a hand on Tony’s back, leading him out of the lab while simultaneously ignoring the protests.

“I’m mad at you, now.” Tony muttered once they were in the elevator.

“Don’t be, I’m doing what’s best for you. And I can’t work while I’m constantly worried your stitches are being ripped out by your reckless tendencies.” Strange sighed, pushing him out the elevator and into his bedroom.

“Oh, Stephen, I didn’t know you loved me so much.” He teased, stripping his clothes off until he was in his boxers. He threw the clothes by the dirty laundry and pulled a t-shirt over his head and pulled a pair of sweats on instead. Stephen resisted the urge to blush and looked away for that whole ordeal.

The room was bathed in blue light from the evening sky, all the lights turned low. “Don’t get use to it, sweetie.” Strange said, gently pushing Tony into his bed. The hero blended into the beige sheets, satin pressed against his legs. The blush on Tony’s cheeks was light, almost invisible in the lighting. Strange brought himself to sit on the side of the bed, just like the hospital. One look at Tony and he knew he had to bring up the whole ‘I love you,’ thing. He had no idea where to start.

The doctor’s heart was beating and Tony’s hands were shaking, the silence too deep than it should be. Tony kept his eyes focused on those blue, blue, eyes-bringing him back to the night on the balcony. Tony barely noticed Strange’s hand had fallen on his upper-knee and—God, please don’t give him a hardy right now, that would be the worst outcome to this situation, ever—and then Tony leaned forward, shoving his lips against Stephen’s. They clashed teeth, but the wizard tasted like coffee and mint together, and it was so good. It was imperfect and rushed, but it was everything Tony hoped it to be. He didn’t want to stop because he knew Strange would pull the whole-we-need-to-talk-about-it thing. So they kept going.

The air was heavy, and the two of them sat panting, before they pulled away. Foreheads pressed together and breath mixing, Tony began to crawl out of the sheets. He grabbed Stephen into a heart wrenching hug, liquid spilling on his shoulders before he could hear the cries.

“Wooah, Tony, what’s wrong?” He asked, lips still raw and red. “Tony?” And now? Strange was convinced Tony was having a panic attack, breathing heavy and rough and God, what the fuck was he supposed to do?

He pulled away from the hug, looking at the panicked genius. “Tony—look at me, it’s okay. Deep breaths, okay?” This was not his area of expertise, and frankly, he had no idea how to calm someone down. Tony’s eyes were wide and wet and he nodded, following the breathing exercises the man kept spitting out. He continued talking in a soft, calm voice, and soon, Tony began to breath deeper.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know,” Tony began.

“Hey, no apologies. It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Strange smiled, soft. Tony loved that smile.

“I’m just...stressed, it’s okay.” Tony fell back into the sheets, and the doctor crawled closer to him. “Can you stay tonight?” Tony asked, vulnerable and kind, like he’s never heard before. Stephen nodded and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Of course, Tony.” Strange smiled and began peeling off his jeans, throwing them to the side and crawling under the covers. There was a silence, and Stephen could tell by his breath that Tony was still awake. “You told me you loved me, when you got out of the rubble. You said you didn’t remember so I never brought it up, but,” Stephen paused, feeling Tony tense. “did you mean it?”

Tony nodded, and that was all the confirmation he needed, leaning over to kiss him again. “I love you too, Tony.”

Tony smiled at that, relaxing into the arms of the wizard.


End file.
